Weaknesses
by sailorraven34
Summary: Natasha Romanoff wants one thing from this world, but just when she thought she was getting close, everything goes wrong and Steve finds her bleeding to death on the gym floor. Clintasha and Romanogers.
1. Tuesdays-Like Mondays, but Suckier

**So… since I've been reading a lot of Avengers fanfiction lately… and I enjoy making assassins fall in love for some reason… so I came up with this somehow? **

**This is going to be one of my serious fics, but since this is me after all… there is some funny. **

Normally, when Steve Rogers went to the gym at three o'clock in the morning, he heard silence. Once or twice, of course, there had been the noises of someone else beating the crap out of a punching bag, and on those occasions Steve had retreated back to his room to put on his clothes before entering, because, well, pants were generally a good thing when you wanted people to take you seriously. But this… this was different.

He considered going for his pants now, as he pressed against the door to listen more closely to the sobbing. Sobbing. And from the pitch of it, it sounded like a woman crying, which didn't make sense as the only female member of the Avengers was not exactly the type to share her emotions. Like, ever.

Unless her feelings towards you fell into the 'I want to kill you' category. She was very good at sharing _those._

Maybe it was somebody's girlfriend, come for a visit? He supposed he could have missed their arrival, having spent a very large portion of the day locked in his bedroom trying to make a Power Point presentation as part of Tony's latest 'let's introduce Thor and Steve to technology for my entertainment' scheme. (Which, by the way, was not fair AT ALL. Thor could just wave his hand and magic a Power Point out of thin air, while Steve was left slaving away at the computer for hours on end just trying to figure out how to operate the damn thing.) Whatever it was, he couldn't stand around here all night. He decided to peek through the window. Just to see who it was, and if pants would be required.

What he saw made him burst in to the room, pants or no pants. "Natasha! NATASHA!"

She tilted her head to look up at him. "Captain…?"

She was lying on the floor, her gray sweatpants soaked in blood. Her eyes were wide in pain and confusion, her face pale and tearstained. He ran towards her, pulling out his phone. "Siri, call an ambulance!"

"I'm sorry, I can't find 'Ambivalence' in your contacts."

"No, ambulance!"

"Found 73 million results for 'No, ambulance.'"

"No, CALL THE AMBULENCE!"

Natasha laughed. He reached out and squeezed her hand, fumbling with his phone in the other hand. She seemed to have stopped crying, but her breathing was growing increasingly shallow.

"911, how can I help you?"

"I'm at… that giant building in the middle of New York with Stark's name plastered all over it and I need an ambulance."

"Your name?"

"Steve Rogers- Captain America?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Just… I have an injured assassin who I think is in shock."

"We'll be right there. Did you say-"

"Thanks." he said, hanging up and turning his attention to Natasha. She seemed to be trying to sit up, but her hands kept slipping in the blood and sending her back to the floor. "Natasha, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can… I'm not… deaf..." Natasha closed her eyes and abandoned all attempts at movement.

"I know but you seem to be injured… can you tell me what's wrong?"

This seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, as Natasha started crying all over again.

"I was so close…" she whispered.

"Sorry?" said Steve.

"Shut… up." Natasha hissed.

"Okay." said Steve.

She lost consciousness.

###

He was just getting to the good part in his book when Clint entered the hospital room. He had obviously left from… whatever he was doing in a hurry, because his clothes were covered in blood and his hair was sticking straight up. He skidded to a halt in front of Steve. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"I think so. She's just asleep." Steve said.

"Can I go and see her?"

"Not until she wakes up, no. She's stable but weak." Steve turned the page. "Do you know what's going on? Because_ apparently_ I've been missing something."

"She would want to tell you herself." Clint said, sinking awkwardly into the chair beside Steve.

"Ah."

"I don't want to make her angry. Do you?"

Steve admitted that he didn't, and the two of them sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before Clint said "So where have the others gone?"

"Stark is at some sort of press conference he couldn't get away from, Thor's not on Earth at the moment and Bruce went to go find a vending machine that dispenses Skittles." Steve reeled off in a bored tone.

"No Skittles? Seriously? I thought the human race was civilized by now." Clint said dryly.

He waited.

"That was a joke."

"I know." said Steve. "I don't get it."

There was another awkward pause.

"Have you ever had Skittles?"

"I can't say that I have."

Clint sighed.

###

She woke up. The room's hospital smell set her instantly on edge, and the pain shooting up her spine at every movement could only mean bad things up ahead.

The trouble was, she couldn't exactly remember what she had done this time to land her in a hospital bed. Normally, there was at least some fragmented memory of a gun or an explosion to remind her, but the last thing she could remember was going to the gym…

"Natasha!"

The grating covering the entrance to the hospital ventilation system clattered to the ground, and her battered looking partner emerged from within the vent. Natasha groaned. "Is that really necessary?"

"They wouldn't let me in to see you."

"Maybe it was for a reason?" she offered.

"Nah."

She couldn't help the small smile that crept across her lips.

Clint crossed his arms as he came to stand beside her bed. "Rogers found you. Ten more minutes and you would have been dead."

"It's not my fault."

"You're an adult." Clint said through gritted teeth. "You knew exactly what would happen if you tried this. And that the risks _far_ outweigh the rewards-"

"I know you're scared for me but I _have_ to keep trying." Natasha said. "I almost made it to twelve weeks, Clint. That's halfway to twenty four. And at twenty four-"

"What would you even do with a baby if you had one?" Clint demanded.

She said nothing.

"Natasha, I'm going to have to tell Fury about this if you keep this up." Clint said quietly.

"You said Steve found me." She sat up gingerly. "Where is he?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"Tell him I'll meet him for coffee when I get released and explain everything then." She couldn't resist adding "Who knows, maybe _he'll_ be supportive."

"Fine, be that way." Clint snapped. He eyed the ventilation shaft as though he might escape that way before opening the door.

Natasha winced as he slammed it shut behind him. She ran a hand through her hair. _Well, this is a lovely mess I've gotten in to… and it's only Tuesday._

**So how was that? Please review : )**


	2. Pop-Tarts, Screwdrivers and Truffles

**Oh my cheese, so many follows and favorites! Thanks so much, especially to NIghtrunner144, jdho2 and hanzz for reviewing. : )**

**I was originally intending for this to be a Romanogers story but after reading a lot of fanfiction I found I actually like Clintasha better… so I guess we'll see what happens! Also, I drew the cover…**

It turned out that she didn't have to wait until she was released to explain to Steve. He turned up the next day, with some flowers for her. She smiled politely and took them as he sat down on the table beside her bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes." she said. "I'll be out of here in a few days, and back to work by Monday…" She trailed off as she caught sight of a little boy rushing past with a balloon in the window.

"Natasha?" Steve blushed. "Can I call you Natasha? Black Widow's kind of…"

"Natasha is perfectly fine." The boy's mother caught up to him, scolding him with a smile on her face. Natasha fought back the sudden grief threatening to envelope and looked up at Steve. "I guess you came here to find out what the hell is wrong with me?"

"Yeah." he said a bit too quickly. "Well, I mean, if you want to tell me. If it's too upsetting-"

"No, I should have told all of you when it happened. I'm just… not used to playing on a team, that's all."

"None of us are."

"You seem to be doing all right." She bit her lip, realizing how angry she sounded. "And Tony thinks it's hilarious."

"Tony thinks everything is hilarious."

"I've noticed." God, why did she keep snapping at him? "I… I was pregnant, and now I'm not."

"What?"

"That's what happened. I had a particularly violent miscarriage." She laced her fingers together and set her linked hands on the bedspread in front of her. "And I would have died if you hadn't found me, so thanks."

"Any time." He seemed unable to look at her. "Was it Clint's?"

"The baby? Oh, no. It was one of my marks'." Natasha said.

"So are you and him together or…?"

Oh, god. "Honestly, I'm not really sure. We're friends who sometimes have spontaneous make-out sessions. If you can tell me what that means in terms of a relationship, kudos to you."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what that means." he confessed.

She shrugged. "It was worth a try anyway." Talking to him got easier with every word, somehow, and she felt herself relaxing.

"So the baby was a mistake?"

"Yes." He looked really nice in those jeans. Did they have jeans in the 40s? _Focus, Natasha. Focus._ "But I… I want to have children someday, so I didn't do anything about it."

"Really?" He blushed again. "Sorry, that was rude."

"Trust me, the things I've heard about…" She trailed off. "Anyway, yes. I do. Maybe it's just my stubbornness coming out because I was told that I couldn't, but…"

"By who, Fury?"

"No, by some very nasty people who did some very nasty things to me. One of which rendered me permanently infertile, or so I thought. It turns out that I can conceive, but the odds of me carrying it to term are… not great. Which is why Clint's pissed- he thinks it's pointless."

"Is it?"

"I don't know. The first few times I thought it was, but they seem to be living longer each time."

"Each time? Natasha, how many miscarriages have you had?"

"Nine. Well, ten now."

He stared at her, then wordlessly reached out and squeezed her hand.

"It's not a big deal…" she mumbled.

"Of course it is!" He looked so _earnest_. "You've had to go through the pain of losing a child that many times? All by yourself?"

"I guess so." She had never really thought about it that way and now that she did, she felt like she might cry. She felt the tears prick at her eyes and suddenly it was beyond her to keep them from spilling out.

As she sobbed, Steve sat down on her bed and put his arm around her shoulders. She found herself unconsciously leaning against him for a few seconds before she got control of the waterworks.

"Natasha?" Steve said gently, clearly wanting to avoid further tears.

"Yeah?" She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"You'll be out of the hospital by Friday, right? Only there's this stupid Christmas party Stark is throwing…"

"Are you asking me out?" Natasha asked.

"Um, I guess so?"

"Good." she said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

###

Nothing felt better than being home. She pulled on her favorite pair of jeans and collapsed onto her bed with a sigh. She hadn't seen Clint since his invasion of her hospital room, and so had no idea if he'd spilled her secrets to Fury or not. Either way, she deserved chocolate. She rolled over and opened the drawer on her bedside table, but the little golden box was gone…

"STARK?"

He poked his head into the doorway. "Yes, princess? What do you need?"

"Did you eat my emergency PMS chocolate stash?"

"You mean those really excellent truffles that were in your room?"

"I am going to kill you." Natasha informed him.

"I had to! I forgot about Pepper's birthday and I needed to give her _something_…."

"So you took my chocolate."

"I'll replace them for you, I promise." Tony cocked his head like a dog. "You alright? You don't have your usual… sparkle."

"Are you implying that I_ ordinarily_ sparkle?"

"Maybe?" He shrugged. "I don't know anymore. I've been awake for three days straight. I can't even come up with good nicknames for you anywhere. Anymore. I can't even talk."

She crossed her arms. "What have you been doing for three days?"

"Things."

"Mm-hmm."

"Important things." Tony brandished a screwdriver. "Trust me, you'll be glad when I'm finished." He attempted to throw the screwdriver up into the air and catch it again, but instead it clattered to the ground and slowly rolled across the floor. Both Tony and Natasha stared at the screwdriver as though it might suddenly spring to life.

"Well, this looks like fun."

Natasha turned around to glare at Clint as he clambered through her window. "You know, there are things called doors. You could use them, once in a while. Just to shake things up a bit."

"I think he manages that on his own." said Tony, poking at the screwdriver with one toe. "I had better get back to my thing-"

"No, you had better go and buy me a box of truffles." Natasha said.

Tony swallowed. "Yes. Chocolate. Anyone else need anything, as long as I'm going to the store…?"

"I WOULD LIKE MORE OF THESE POPPING TARTS." boomed Thor from somewhere down the hall. "ESPECIALLY THE MAPLE-FLAVORED ONES. THEY ARE QUITE DELICIOUS."

"Right, truffles for the assassin and pop-tarts for the god." Tony flapped his hand at the pair. "Carry on."

He shut the door behind him. Natasha moved to open it, but Clint approached her from behind and captured her in his embrace.

"I'm going to be gone for a while." he said.

"Where are you going?"

"Chicago- mop up for the Loki/New York thing. I'll be undercover, so you won't be able to call or text. And it'll be at least three or four months, so if there's anything you need to tell me, now would be a nice time."

She stared at him. "Did you tell Fury?"

"What? No." He sighed. "That's all you have to say?"

"What were you hoping for?" She turned so she was facing him, placing her hands against his chest.

"I think you know."

She kissed him, eager for the distraction from the lingering sadness of what had happened. Clint pushed her away. "Oh, knock it off. I heard about Steve."

"You never said we were dating exclusively." Natasha snarled, angry for whatever reason. She pulled away. "You never said _anything, _actually."

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with you seeing him." Clint said with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm an assassin, I'm capable of reading facial expressions." She fell backwards onto the bed. "Go away, Clint."

"Stop acting childish."

"_I'm_ the one who's acting childish? You climbed in through the window!"

"Look, what I was going to say is that you shouldn't screw with Steve's head, okay? He actually cares about you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, don't pretend to be so innocent." He opened the door. "Goodbye, Tasha." Then he slammed it shut.

It would have been a dramatic exit, had it not been for the screwdriver. Clint paused, reopened the door and kicked the offending object away.

"Back so soon?" purred Natasha.

"Shut up." This time, he made sure it slammed.

**Review!**


	3. Snowdrop

**Thanks to carolzocas, Elfinium, Imtellingmyfatheraboutthis and mgsylvester to reviewing, and to everyone who followed/favorited!**

**I'm sorry for the long wait, but I'm afraid it might always be this long between updates. I am now somehow writing four stories at once plus school, so… yeah. I'll do my best to update at least every three weeks, but I can't promise anything. **

Everything felt weird with Clint gone, just as it always did. But this time she at least had the distraction of Steve. In the days leading up to the Christmas party, they talked and ate lunch together a couple of times. He even referred to them as 'us' once, which made her suddenly unable to finish her salad due to the flipping of her stomach.

She wore a white dress to the Christmas party, and when Steve greeted her at the door, he promptly informed her that she looked like a snowdrop.

"A snowdrop?" she asked, amused. "What's a snowdrop?"

"A flower, I think…"

"And I look like a flower?"

"A snowdrop."

"A snowdrop." She ran her hands over the fabric. "Huh."

He smiled.

###

Three hours later, Natasha had been forcibly stuffed with enough Christmas spirit to choke a horse. She sunk into a chair, setting her glare level to maximum. _If one more person comes up to me and tries to make small talk… I will strangle them with the nearest festive tablecloth._

Steve, sensing her exasperation, asked "Do you want to go up to the roof?"

"Can we?"

Steve shrugged. "Technically no, but…"

She smiled, reaching up to take his hand. He squeezed her fingers and pulled her to her feet. They slipped through the crowds of people easily, which Steve put down to Natasha's intimidating snowdrop presence.

The door to the roof was locked. Natasha just shrugged and removed a hairpin from her curls. Within a few seconds, the door swung open.

"Do you bring those everywhere?" Steve asked her.

"Of course." Natasha assured him. Her expression grew suddenly fierce. "You never know what could happen. Or when."

"Don't worry about it." Steve said. "With all of us together-"

Natasha grabbed him by the shoulders and together they tumbled forward into the stairwell, kissing fiercely. Natasha shut the door with her foot as they broke apart, gasping.

"Do you hear that?" Steve hissed.

_Please say it isn't Tony._ Natasha moaned internally, bracing herself for an incoming flood of teasing that would probably also include some really crappy jokes about spiders.

"I think someone's crying." Steve said, standing up.

"Do you just have some magnetic power of attracting weeping damsels, or something?" muttered Natasha.

Steve chose, wisely, not to point out that Natasha had just called herself a weeping damsel and ascended the next few stairs. "Hello?" he called softly. "It's Steve. Rogers. Well, you probably know who I am…"

Pepper Potts was curled in the corner of the 27th floor landing sobbing, her own considerably-less-snowdroppy dress rumpled. Natasha had a moment of panic. She wasn't exactly a people-person, and her efforts (well, attempts) to comfort someone often were more of a harm than help. But by the time she had gritted her teeth and sat down beside Pepper, Steve was already putting an arm around her shoulders and asked what was wrong, in a much softer voice than Natasha could ever use, not even for kittens.

"I'm pregnant…!" sobbed Pepper.

Natasha felt herself freeze up. Steve didn't notice. He patted Pepper's shoulder. "That's great!"

"No, it really isn't." Pepper sniffled. "Tony's going to flip."

"Who knows," said Natasha, surprising herself slightly. She hadn't thought herself capable of speech at the moment, "Maybe he'll take this as an opportunity to change his ways and become a respectful member of society in order to be a role model to the kid."

They all got a good laugh out of that one, even Pepper.

###

Tony didn't flip. He just sort of staggered backwards and sat down in the punch bowl. (Thankfully, the security cameras captured the moment and Galaga Man (Tony's self-proclaimed nemesis after his expulsion from SHIELD for negligence) later made a GIF of it and spread it throughout the Internet. Tony found this funny. Eventually.)

Banner nodded in a satisfied matter. "Clint owes me fifty bucks."

"You were betting over my firstborn baby?!" Pepper snarled.

"You're surprised about this?" Steve asked.

"Not really." Pepper crossed her arms. "But that doesn't mean it's any less annoying."

"CONGRATULATIONS, LADY PEPPER." said Thor, clapping her on the back. Pepper nodded numbly, fixated on her shoes.

Tony stared down at all the punch. "Well." he said in a sort of hoarse voice. "This is… great…"

Pepper bit her lip.

"We should leave you two alone." Steve said quickly, turning to find Natasha. But she was gone.

###

Her head was pounding as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Pepper? Why Pepper? Pepper and Tony didn't even want a baby, not now.

_It's because you don't deserve it._ hissed the little voice in the back of her head (which now sounded annoyingly like Loki). _Your ledger is _dripping._ No one would dare entrust you with a brand-new, fragile life. You have no place anywhere near a cradle!_

Natasha stifled a sob that rose in her throat. _Not fair. Not fair at all…_

Her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. "Hello?"

"Agent Romanoff, we need you back at HQ now."

"I'll be there in a few hours." she said. "What's wrong?"

"It's about Agent Barton."

_He's gotten mind-controlled _again_? _

"He contacted us and said he needed to see you right away. That he had something to tell you, and that it was important_._"

"But he's all right?"

"We don't know. He missed his check-in, but he does that a lot so it's probably nothing to be worried about-"

"Did he _sound_ okay?" she demanded.

"I wasn't the one who received the message." the man on the other end said in exasperation.

She knew terrorizing some random member of SHIELD wouldn't help, but it was hard to keep her anxiety over her partner's wellbeing from turning into anger and coming out of her mouth. She just muttered some sort of affirmative statement and slammed the phone down onto the counter.

_Clint._

Even though her brain was trying to tell her it was nothing, she had long ago learned that the hairs on the back of her neck were a far better judge, and right now they were prickling like mad.

She slipped out of the bathroom and started towards her room- if she was going to go and receive a possibly life-changing message, she certainly wasn't going to do it as a snowdrop.


	4. Attack of the Unpaid Intern

**Thank you to carolzocas, ilikehats2, JMLE Renner and Telemain's Daughter for reviewing!**

The first time it had happened, she had just joined S.H.E.I.L.D., drawing looks in the halls for very different reasons then she did now. Back then, she was a charity project and a freak, "that psycho Barton brought in". She wouldn't admit it to herself, but she didn't like that very much- it was like she was quarantined for some infectious disease, only allowed to go through life without others of her kind. Clint talked to her sometimes, but she always just found herself snapping at him. She owed him, despite his many attempts to convince her otherwise, and when he was around she couldn't stop that from gnawing away inside of her.

When she found out, she just stared at the little plastic stick for what felt like an eternity, not able to comprehend what was happening. When she finally moved beyond any emotion other than pure shock, she found she was terrified. No. Not terrified. Excited. Why was she excited?

She knew she should get an abortion, though. She really should. But she had that meeting today. She'd do it tomorrow…

Tomorrow turned into Thursday, and Thursday turned into next week, and just when Natasha was starting to feel- dare she even say it- _hopeful_ reality came crashing in.

Anything regarding the Red Room was firmly locked up in a no-go zone inside her head, but it began to trickle out after the first painful reminder that she would never be a mother. She staggered around in a daze for nearly a week before Clint finally dared to ask her if something was wrong.

"Yes." she said, too exhausted both mentally and physically to lie.

Clint was silent for a second. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay," he said. His face was expressionless, but he reached around to briefly squeeze her hand. The contact was so fleeting she thought she might have imagined it, so she said nothing.

She locked away that memory too.

###

Natasha was in a good mood as she parked. She had been blasting the radio the entire way to HQ, the music too loud to allow for any thoughts to form in her head. All the better, because all she could think about was-

"Agent Romanoff."

She leaned against the side of one of Tony's many sports cars (just because she wasn't jealous,(she wasn't, honest!) it didn't mean she forgave him for making Pepper cry). "I thought you were still in the Middle East."

"I thought I'd put in a special appearance just for you." Fury crossed his arms. "Now please explain to me what the _hell_ is going on."

"I'm going after Barton."

"Don't play games with me, Natasha. I don't have time."

She crossed her arms. "I made a mistake. It won't happen again."

"See, what I don't understand is why you didn't tell anyone." Fury said angrily. "You do realize that Stark could have helped you? Not to mention Banner, who is _actually a doctor_."

She hadn't said anything, because talking about it made it _real, _and what was the point of it being real if it just ended with a trip to the hospital a few weeks later?

Out loud, she said nothing.

"It seems to me that you're either being stubborn, trying to make someone mad, or trying to cause yourself harm." Fury said. "Whatever your motivation, you need to figure out what's going on and either get it together or _stop_."

"Sir," she said, finding her voice again, "with all due respect, it's none of your business."

Fury snorted. "None of my business? What about when there's a threat to this organization, to this country, to the whole _world_, and I can't send you in because you're too busy being hormonal and moping about your swollen feet? And you can bet anything your admirer will refuse to leave your side as well. That's half the Avengers gone right there."

"My admirer?"

"Barton, don't make a sarcastic comment." She held in the anticipated comment, slightly annoyed. "We don't have time for a midlife crisis right now. Got it?"

"But Loki is in space jail." Natasha blurted out without thinking.

Fury gave her a strange look. "Yes, but how many more Lokis are out there? We need our team, Agent Romanoff-"

"Yes, I got it. I won't do it again, okay?"

Fury stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. "All right. By the way, is there something going on between you and Mr. Rogers? Only between the two of us Maria and I have gotten about fifty text messages by now from him asking where you are."

"_Maria_?"

"Don't get smart with me." He rubbed his jaw. "Is he the father?"

"No." she said quickly, eager to change the subject. "I got a phone call about Clint needing to tell me something important- do you know anything about that?"

"I heard about it." Fury said. "Come with me and I'll tell you what I know."

###

As soon as they entered HQ, a short, slightly chubby girl literally bounced over to them. "Director Fury, sir!" All elements of professionalism (not that there had been many) vanished when she set eyes on Natasha. "Ohmigawd- is that her?"

Fury suppressed a sigh as Natasha gawked. The girl was in her late teens or early twenties, dressed in an ill-fitting uniform and grinning like a maniac. "Agent Romanoff, this is Gretchen Duncan. She's working as an intern this year."

"Unpaid intern." the girl corrected. She bounced closer. "Natasha- can I call you Natasha? I watched all of the footage from New York and _you are sooo awesome_."

"Thank you, and no, you can't call me Natasha." Natasha said, shooting Fury a "what the hell were you thinking?" look.

"Uh… Agent Romanoff, then." Gretchen beamed, seemingly undeterred. At least she had spunk. "Anyway, follow me and I'll pull up the message from Cl- Agent Barton."

Finally, they were getting somewhere. She followed Gretchen into the elevator, where they stood awkwardly for a few minutes before Gretchen said "So, are you and Cl-Agent Barton dating?"

"No, me and Cl-Agent Barton are not dating." Natasha said.

Gretchen made a pouting face. "But you guys would make such a cute couple!"

"Thank you." Natasha said.

"You're welcome!" Gretchen said, missing the sarcasm entirely. God, how much coffee did this kid drink? "You should ask him out! Maybe he's just shy!"

Shy was not a word that applied to Clint in really any circumstances. "I think he's happy with just friends."

"Or maybe he's waiting for you to- oooh, we're here!"

Gretchen stopped and said hello to _everyone_ they passed in the hallway, which made Natasha want to rip out the girl's annoyingly perky ponytail in annoyance. Clint could be dying at this very second- there wasn't any time for chit-chat!

When they finally- _finally-_ reached their destination, Gretchen suddenly snapped into what could be comparatively called her serious mode. She fiddled with her computer for a few seconds before Clint's voice filled the room.

"Natasha. I've found something that you need to see. It's about the Red Room, and it's very important. I need you to come here or find a way to contact me as soon as possible." There was a pause, and then the voice returned, louder than before. "Natasha, I think you've been compromised."

Natasha tried to ignore the shiver that went down her spine after the last two words. _God dammit, could he be any more vague about what he's found?_

"We, um, haven't heard anything from Agent Barton since." Gretchen said quietly. "He missed his check in time, but he usually misses one in four, so-"

"Natasha!"

Steve burst into the room and wrapped her in a bear hug. "Next time, leave a note, okay? You scared the _serum_ out of me! It's a good thing Tony uses tracking devices on all his cars…. oh, and he says you'd better return it without scratches, or he'll…"

"Or he'll what?" Natasha said, squirming from his grasp.

"I don't know. He said he'd think of something, though."

Natasha laughed. Gretchen was staring in awe at her friend, and after a second of silence she asked. "Are you _him?_"

"Steve Rogers, nice to meet you." Steve extended a hand. Instead of taking it, Gretchen made a noise that Natasha could only describe as a _squee _and pressed her hands to her face.

"Agent Duncan, control yourself." Natasha said, annoyed for a reason she couldn't fully explain.

"Intern Duncan." Gretchen snapped, and for a split second Natasha saw another side of her, hard and cold. Then she said. "Anyway, we can't do anything about Mr. Barton now. We have to wait at least…" She examined her watch, which was festooned with a brightly colored anime girl on the face. "twelve hours. You should probably make yourselves comfortable."

She winked at Natasha before shooing them (politely) out of her office. Natasha took Steve's hand.

"Do you want to pick up where we left off…?"

"What?"

She sighed. "Do you want to go to my bedroom?"

"Sure, I guess- oh. You mean… oh."

"We don't have to-"

"No." Steve said. "It's okay."


	5. Vanishing Act

**OMG THERE IS A GIRL IN MY ENGLISH CLASS WHO LOOKS JUST LIKE MY MENTAL PICTURE OF GRETCHEN. **

**(She doesn't act like her though, thank god.)**

**Anyway, thank you to Hanz, patricia51 and Telemain's Daughter for the reviews! (And all you people who have favorited and followed! We have now crossed thirty follows so weee!)**

**Also I keep trying to bring Clint back into this, but the trouble is that when Clint comes back he brings with him a major plot twist, and I need some things to happen with Natasha first. Sorry about that. He should be back by at least chapter seven, if not sooner.**

Gretchen Duncan twisted her hair up off her neck into a bun and retrieved two objects from her desk drawer. One was a bottle of apple-green nail polish, the second was a disposable cell phone inside a case fashioned out of penguin patterned duct tape. She contemplated the phone for a few seconds before giving up and looking up the number that she was supposed to be calling.

A man picked up on the first ring. "Agent Duncan."

"Intern Duncan." she corrected as she unscrewed the cap of the nail polish. She propped her feet up on the desk and removed her shiny silver combat boots. "I saw that you called." As she relaxed, her voice began to slip into her natural accent- English, with a hint of the ten years she had spent in Ukraine as a child. "What's up?"

"HYDRA."

Gretchen pouted. "Yes. I know _that._ Anything new I might need to know?"

"Maybe. We've definitely got someone high up leaking classified secrets."

She swore as she missed her toenail and smeared polish all over her foot.

"I know." the man continued in a grave tone. "Which is why I need Natasha Romanoff's medical files. ASAP."

"And that would be spy language for…"

"As soon as possible."

"Hmmmm…" Gretchen contemplated her half-finished toenails. Did she still have some of those white flower stickers, and was it worth the risk of damaging her paint job to walk across the room to go and get them? She sucked on her lower lip. "Well, I don't have high enough clearance for that. I guess I could hire someone who does… or someone who has the skills to access files they aren't allowed to."

"Can't you just use your mother's network?"

Gretchen scowled. She hated feeling stupid. "I can _try._ But it'll take a while."

"Time is one thing we don't have."

"Liar. We don't have a trained monkey, or a tower with our names on it, or-"

"It was a figure of speech."

"Look, I'll try and get the files to you by Tuesday, okay? Where are you, anyway?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You're no fun. I suppose I can just pop by your apartment and drop them off. You can go and collect them when you feel like it. Fine by you?"

"Thanks, Gretch. I really do appreciate it."

"Yes, yes." She blew on her toenails to dry them. "Stickers or no stickers?"

"Stickers. Definitely stickers." he said without missing a beat.

###

Natasha wasn't exactly the sort of person prone to regretting things. Sure, sometimes when she was alone she wallowed in the would've-beens and should've-beens of the past, but most of the time she tried to live in the present. And if she couldn't keep herself fixated on what was happening now… well, then that was what alcohol was for.

But as she fixed scrambled eggs and bacon on the stove the morning after, she couldn't help thinking that she was making a horrible mistake. That was the problem with simple tasks- her mind didn't need to engage, so it wandered freely into the dark, depressing recesses of her memory. She glared down at the pan as though it has personally wronged her before going over to the pantry to retrieve some bread.

As she reached for it a sudden shock of pain raced through her, not very different from the agony she'd felt before she'd lost consciousness in the gym. It took a great deal of professionalism not to cry out- instead she just sort of collapsed onto the floor hugging her knees.

She kept her voice strong. "Steve?"

He appeared in the doorway. "Are you all right?" he asked, eyes widening at the sight of her on the floor.

She had always thought that was a stupid question to ask someone- _obviously_ she wasn't all right, why would she be sitting on the ground with her face screwed up in pain if she was? But coming from Steve it didn't bother her quite as much.

And then the pain was gone.

"I think so…" She poked herself in the stomach, very confused.

Steve seemed to consider nervously taking a step towards her, then decided against it. "Oh… um, is it… your… um… monthly girl… thing?"

She laughed a little. "No. At least, I don't think so. Maybe. I… can you get the eggs?"

Captain America jumped into action, seemingly relieved at being able to simply follow her order instead of fumbling with this thing they were calling a "relationship." Natasha stood and poked her head over his shoulder. "Looks like it's about done… I'll get some toast."

He nodded, sending her a smile over his shoulder. Her chest tightened and she turned away.

"_Look, what I was going to say is that you shouldn't screw with Steve's head, okay? He actually cares about you."_

But she wasn't. Honest.

Her phone rang and they both jumped. Why was she so nervous? Obviously the absence of her partner had her a bit on edge, but this was getting ridiculous. It's not like she'd never had a boyfriend bef-

Oh.

"Hello?"

"We sent people in to check out the apartment Barton is staying in. It's deserted. It has been for weeks." Hill said, forgoing a greeting.

"You lost Clint."

"Can you meet me in my office?"

"You _lost_ Clint?!"

"It's important."

Natasha realized she wasn't going to get any more information out of Hill over the phone. "Should I bring Steve?"

"Couldn't hurt." Hill said.

"What about that Duncan girl?" Natasha asked, more to see Maria's reaction than anything else. "She sure seemed like-"

"_Do not talk to me about that little worm or I swear I'm going to-_" Maria broke off. "No." she said after a second. "Just hurry, please."

###

The meeting was unproductive- they interrogated her on what she knew, she got pissed and snapped at them, Steve defended her, Fury yelled at everyone for twenty minutes about professionalism and by the time all that was over, it was one o'clock and everyone was too hungry to get anything done.

She had been to worse meetings, of course, but those ones at least had doughnuts.

At the end of the day, they were still no closer to finding Clint. Natasha was starting to get a little anxious about the sheer amount of precautions he had taken to keep SHIELD from finding him. And it did seem to be him preventing them from tracking him down. She remained in the room after everyone else had left, slowly and methodically tucking her pencils into their polka-dotted pouch.

Suddenly, warm arms captured her from behind. She sighed and leaned back against Steve.

"Hey." he said. She had noticed that he was starting to become a bit less timid around her, and now that she was the vulnerable one, it showed more than ever.

"Thanks for putting up with my shit." she said, closing her eyes.

"No problem." he said. "I guess this is stressing you out, huh?"

"No kidding. This on top of Pepper-" Mentioning Pepper was a mistake. She shut her mouth and they stood in silence for a moment, tears trickling down her face.

She would do anything, even put up with Tony 24/7, to switch places with that woman right now.

**I apologize for the lack of funny. It probably has to do with the fact that I've been listening to the Madoka Magica soundtrack while writing, which is REALLY FREAKING DEPRESSING but AMAZING. **

**Just out of curiosity, is there anyone reading who would be willing to beta? It would really help me get the chapters out faster.**

**Reviews are motivation… **


	6. Tony's Pets

**I love Powerpoint. Is that weird? It's really fun for me… : )**

**Anyway, after doing extensive… research *cough* reading fanfics *cough* into both pairings I have finally determined the end one. And where the hell I'm going with this. Weeee…**

**Thank you to patricia51 and Telemain's Daughter for the review! Next chapter marks the return of Clint… **

"Lady Natasha?"

She had been aware of Thor standing there, watching curiously as she checked her email, but it sure made her jump a little. "Yes?"

"I am embarking on a quest to the Store of Groceries for Lord Bruce, and was wondering if perhaps you would like me to grab you something?"

She squinted at the computer screen for a few seconds. "Could you just grab me some coconut curry from the Indian place a block over? I've been dreaming about it ever since Steve and I went there last week. 5 stars."

Thor nodded purposefully. "I shall make sure of it." He stared at the screen. "Are you perhaps playing games on that device? Lord Stark enlightened me on how to entertain myself with a few of them on his pocket-sized version. I especially prefer the saga of those Angry Birds."

"No." Natasha said. "I emailed everyone I knew to ask if they'd seen Clint. I'm just responding to all their…. responses."

She tugged her ponytail tighter. She must look like a wreck. What most people didn't realize was how much _time_ it took to get her hair in any sort of resemblance to what was expected of a seductress. So if like today she decided she had better things to do, it just exploded from the hair tie into what, in her mind, resembled a very angry pine cone.

"Is there any news of the Hawk-Eyed One?" Thor asked, sounding concerned.

"Nothing yet."

Thor patted her on the back, which was unexpected but not unwelcome. "Do not worry, Lady Natasha. I am certain he will return. The two of you have too special a bond for events to transpire otherwise."

She smiled. "Thanks, Thor." She stood up.

"Have you seen Lord Tony? I plan to ask him next."

"I think he's in the Room of Li- the Living Room. I'm warning you, though, it appears that Christmas has exploded in there, so tread with caution."

"Christmas exploded? Right in front of Lord Stark's eyes?! How horrific! Will he live?!"

It took all her professionalism not to laugh at that. "Yes, I think so."

"Excellent." Thor said. "I shall go and console Lord Stark in his grief." He started towards the door, then paused halfway across the room. "Lady Natasha…"

"Yeah?"

"I have heard, through the Captain of America, of your problems. On Asgard, we have spells that might-"

"I can't." She said quietly. "I don't want to be a science… magic experiment. I just can't."

Thor nodded. "All right. I shall respect your decision."

###

The second Natasha entered the living room, she was assaulted by a large inflatable Santa Claus. "Stark!"

"Hello, Spidey. Do you like him? His name is Frederick."

"That's great." Natasha surveyed the room. Holiday-themed toy trains snaked over every surface (including the ceiling), the chandelier had been draped in entertaining strands of popcorn, tinsel and lights, and a massive (plastic?) tree took center stage in the middle of the room, festooned with all manner of Avengers ornaments and surrounded by piles of cotton fluff obviously meant to represent snow.

"You and Pepper are fighting again, aren't you?"

Tony made Frederick the Santa Claus nod.

"Did she leave?"

Tony flopped dramatically onto the couch (now re-upholstered in what looked like Christmas ribbon). "Yeah. She said she needed some time by herself."

"Ah." Natasha nodded sagely.

"Have you heard any news about Robin Hood?" Tony was clearly eager to change the subject to something other than his relationship issues.

"Nope. Steve's off with some agents… investigating, I guess you would call it. But so far nothing's turned up."

"And how is life in the fantastical world of Romanogers?" Tony asked.

"Steve and I are-"

There was a faint mechanical noise like an engine powering down, and then the lights went off.

"Did you blow a fuse with your Christmas decorations?" Natasha asked.

Tony stood up. "No. Avengers Tower is still completely self-sustaining, remember? That's why Glowstick of Destiny hijacked it. This has to be some sort of… hack or something. Jarvis?"

There was silence.

"No power, no computerized butler." Natasha said, unconsciously checking the number of bullets in her gun. "We should probably try and make our way down to the ground floor. Are there any more Avengers in the Tower? I know Thor just left."

"Bruce is… oh, crap." Tony ran for the doors and tugged at them. "Can you help me with this?"

She shoved Frederick out of her way and began pulling, and the door began to slide open. "What do you mean 'oh, crap'? Is he going to Hulk?"

"I doubt it, but he's in the lab and there's a lot of dangerous stuff in there."

"You're in there all the time and somehow still alive."

"Well, normally it's contained… for the most part. But if there's a power outage, that means it's all running wild and free-"

"What do you have in there, tigers?"

"Add cyborg and you've got a pretty good picture."

"Goddamn it, Tony." Natasha surveyed the staircase. "Which floor is the lab, again?"

"I think its five floors below?"

Great. Stairs.

After a couple dozen, the air began to fill with smoke, tinted with another smell Natasha couldn't identify. Tony coughed. "I think this means we're close!" he said.

"Okay." Natasha yanked a fire extinguisher off the wall as they approached. "You stay put, I'll go find Bruce."

"I'll try and call Thor. Maybe he can fly up here and get us out!"

"You can always just jump out the window." Natasha said. "Now help me with this door."

More smoke came billowing out once it opened, and Natasha took a few cautious steps into the gloom. She had the basic layout of the lab in her head, but that wouldn't help her much with finding Bruce.

"Banner?" she yelled. "It's me. Where are you? Wave or something- I'm by the door-"

She heard a muffled, unintelligible yell followed by a cough.

"Keep talking!" Natasha called again before slowly making her way through the room. She couldn't see three feet in front of her and the watering of her eyes from the smoke didn't help matters. "Bruce?"

"Here!" he said, clearer this time. "Here! But I think my leg's broken- there was a cabinet that fell over on top of it. I've managed to move it off, but I don't know if I'll be able to walk…"

She picked her way through the maze and nearly tripped over Bruce. As it was, she just grabbed his face and stumbled.

"Ow." said Bruce through her hand.

"Sorry. Here, grab my arm. I'll pull you up."

They were halfway back to the door when a large shape obscured in shadow darted across their path.

Bruce jumped (as best as you could jump, anyway, with a broken leg) and Natasha went for her gun. "Tony?" she bellowed. "You were kidding about the cyborg tigers, right?"

"Actually, it's a leopard-"

The Cyborg Leopard (his name was Charles but that doesn't really matter right now) lunged for Natasha. Survival instinct allowed her to dump Bruce on the ground and sink five bullets into where she approximated its chest to be. Charles let out a caterwaul of agony and slunk away from the pair. Natasha glanced down at Bruce- he appeared to be unconscious. Great. Just great.

"Um, are you okay in there?" came Tony's voice from the outside.

_I hate you so much right now._ Natasha thought, tugging Bruce to his feet and looping one of his arms around her shoulder. "Be prepared to close that door. Fast."

Charles had begun to circle them, warily, but creeping closer ever the same. Natasha tensed. She was going to have to make a run for it- bullets didn't seem to make a dent in it. "Ready?" she called to Stark.

"Yep!"

"Then… go!" she screamed, tension making her voice creep higher then intended, and bolted for the door.

Tony slammed it shut the instant Bruce's toes dragged across the doorway. Natasha sighed with relief and collapsed against the heavy sliding door. "What the _hell, _Stark."

"I dabbled in many things during my college years." Tony said. "Psychiatry, vegetarianism and cyborg animals. All in good fun, really."

"Really." Natasha snorted. She bent down to gently shake Bruce. "Any news from Thor?"

"No. I don't appear to have any cell reception, which is really annoying. Is this what it feels like to be a normal-"

The lights flickered, then came back on.

"Huh." Tony scratched his head. "Huh." he said again.

"I wonder what that was about?" Bruce asked, looking woozy.

"Well, they turned the lights back on." Natasha said grimly. "That means they got what they came for."

"Wow, you're much better at psychiatry then I am." Tony marveled.

"I think that's more of a common sense thing, which I do seem to have in considerably higher amounts then you."

"I replaced it with testosterone and alcohol. It all balances out in the end."

Bruce groaned and sat up. "Tony, did you put something in my drink again?"

"No." said Tony very quickly. "It was Charles!"

"Who on earth is Charles?" mumbled Bruce.

"Well, he doesn't seem to like you very much." Natasha said thoughtfully.

"He doesn't really like anyone much." Tony agreed. "Anyway-"

The window to their right exploded inwards as Thor somersaulted into the rooms. "Friends! I was trapped in the small vertically moving box and could not come to your aid-"

Tony cut him off. "It's all right." he said. "Jarvis? How's the tower looking?"

"Everything is functioning at one-hundred percent, sir."

"Maybe it was a distraction." Bruce offered. "Keep us stuck here while the real mayhem was occurring somewhere else…"

"Jarvis, has there been any incidents? Alien invasions, nuclear missiles, gods… you know."

"I am getting reports of a shooting approximately 1200 feet from your current position, sir. Three people are reported as dead."

"I doubt that has to do with us." Tony mused. "Where, exactly?"

"I believe it was the bookstore that Miss Potts likes to frequent, sir."

Alarm bells began blaring in Natasha's head. She turned towards the elevator but before the assassin could take a single step, Tony was already off and running.


	7. Memories

**Thank you to . and Guest for the review!**

**Guest: Thank you for letting me know about that. I've adjusted Chapter 5 so it says English which you said was better. But I'm not going to get more specific then that because this isn't Gretchen's story, and the exact area where she grew up doesn't really matter.**

**Alright, so even though I never update this thing anyways… I'm doing NaNoWriMo and won't be posting during the month of November. **

**(Except I suck at being on hiatus. I keep writing fanfiction. It's a problem.)**

Tony Stark had once remarked to her that Pepper was his angel (he was drunk at the time). Right now, Natasha couldn't have agreed more. With her strawberry blond hair fanning out around her and a peaceful smile on her face, she did look a bit like some sort of heavenly being.

Unfortunately, she also looked very, very dead.

Natasha was never quite sure what to do when someone around her was upset. Her training hadn't exactly made her into a very empathetic person, and trying to deal with her own quiet version of grief while simultaneously helping a friend through it was a near herculean task. So she just stepped back and stayed out of the way as Tony yelled at the sky.

Eventually, he whirled on her. "This is all your fault." he hissed.

"Me?" she demanded, suddenly angry. Like hell it was her fault. "How exactly did you arrive at that conclusion, Mr. Supergenius?"

"You were the one who decided that we needed a base for us all to stay at." he hissed. "Which did nothing but paint a huge target onto my tower-"

"Yes, and who _suggested_ that we should use your tower?" Natasha crossed her arms. "I know you're upset, but you can't go around blaming everyone in sight."

"How would you know?" Tony said. He wasn't raising his voice, but the anger was still very plain in his tone. "You don't even have a heart!"

She kept her face stoically calm, although his comment stung a little. Bruce reached halfheartedly towards Tony as he leaned against Thor for support. "Tony-"

"Shut up!" Tony bellowed. He backed away from his friends. "Just… shut up!"

Bruce retracted his hand and nodded.

So they stood in silence as sirens whined and the crowd of onlookers were dispelled by the police arriving on the scene. Finally, Natasha spoke.

"I'm going to call Steve." she said quietly, her voice coming out rough and raw.

"Fine." Tony spat.

She reached out and touched his shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid." she told him, unsure of exactly what she meant.

"I can't make any promises."

"Please." she said. She didn't wait for an answer. She needed to get out of there _now._

She stood outside the bookstore and made the call. As she waited for Steve to pick up, when the sound coming from the phone abruptly cut out. At the sound of footsteps behind her, she turned around and saw Gretchen Duncan standing right behind her, holding a small black device.

"Sorry about that." Gretchen said, reaching out and grabbing the phone. Natalya stared at her, keeping her grip firm on the device.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. It seemed like SHIELD to show up at the scene of the crime before the body was cold. Lately it felt like their ultimate goal had morphed from "protecting civilians" into "slapping red tape over everything in the name of good".

"You need to come with me." Gretchen said, tugging at the phone.

There was a strange look in her eyes Natasha really didn't like. Her hand went straight to her gun. "Can I help you?"

"I just said, you need to come with me." Gretchen repeated.

"And why should I do that, exactly?" She wondered if Steve could still hear them. She certainly hoped so.

Gretchen chewed unhappily on her lip. "I really don't want to do this." she told Natasha.

"Then don't." Now the safety was off her gun.

Gretchen said "I'm sorry."

Natasha brought up the gun but hands reached around from behind her and tore it from her hand. She slammed her heel back into her attacker's crotch, and the hands released with a muffled grunt. She spun and landed several quick blows before something sharp pricked her shoulder. She hissed as her vision began to swim, staggering backwards against the building.

"I'm really, really sorry." Gretchen repeated from somewhere to her left just before she lost consciousness.

###

She woke up. To her surprise, she didn't seem to be restrained in any way- in fact, she was lying on a cushy hotel room couch.

"Natasha?" said a familiar voice.

"Clint?" She stood up. Her partner smiled at her, then pulled her to his chest.

"Oh no, none of that until I get some sort of explanation." she said firmly, pushing him away. "We all thought-"

"I'm not dead, despite SHIELD's best attempts to put me in the ground." he said.

"SHIELD is trying to kill you?"

"Yep." Clint shoved his hands in his pockets. "I have no idea why, but ever since I… well. I might as well start from the beginning."

"Clint?" The door opened and Gretchen stuck her head in. "Is she awa- oh."

Gretchen and Natasha stared at each other for a few seconds.

"You're working with her?" Natasha asked, frowning. "You're aware that she and her little friend attacked me, right?"

"Actually, that was me." Clint said.

Natasha nodded. "All right."

"I needed someone to keep an eye on you, so I pulled a few strings and got Elena a position in Fury's office." Clint told her.

"Elena?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that." Gretchen said. Natasha half-expected her to pull off a wig and mask or something, but she just sat down on the couch. "My real name's Elena Roman. Nice to meet you. Er, again."

"Roman?" Natasha said slowly. "As in Victoire and Maximillian Roman?" She'd only clashed with the villainous pair of siblings once or twice in her career, as they had been on the same side pre-SHIELD, and on a different continent after she joined them, but their reputation did not paint a pretty story.

"Yes!" Elena blurted, bouncing anxiously on the couch. "Yes, I… she's my mum." As she continued speaking, her accent was changing from American to something different.

"You're kidding me." Natasha said. What was Clint playing at? Furthermore, what did that mean about Elena? Had her klutzy behavior been just an act? Clint's people-assessing skills were pretty sharp- they had to be, with his job- but he also could be totally wrong and about to get them all killed.

Elena went pink around the ears. "Yes… I… I know I'm a bit of a disappointment…"

Clint poked her shoulder, which was his version of a comforting pat on the back. "You're not useless, Lena. You make freaking _amazing_ sandwiches."

Elena grinned, one compliment all that was needed to restore her happiness. "Aw, thanks!" She looked from assassin to assassin and jumped up. "I'll go get you guys some food or something." she added awkwardly.

"Thank you." Natasha said, forcing herself to keep her voice natural.

Elena bobbed her head in a cross between a nod of acknowledgement and a bow, then bounced out of the room. Natasha crossed her arms, staring at Clint with a questioning look.

"Aren't you going to apologize?" Clint asked.

She wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "For what?"

"For kicking me in the balls!"

"I didn't know it was you." she said offhandedly.

"Apology accepted." Clint said with a sigh. "Anyway. Explaining. Here we go."

He ran a hand through his hair, making it even more spiky and messy, but she sort of liked it that way.

"It started a couple of months ago… you made some sort of offhand comment referencing something. I think it was… the first time I held your hand."

"Yeah." she said, her voice coming out raw again. "I remember."

"Well, I didn't. I asked you to clarify, thinking it would probably jog my memory and you described something that had never happened. At first, I figured I had just been hit on the head one too many times or something… but then, that sort of thing kept happening. Over and over again. I started getting paranoid. I asked you questions about things we had done together, and most of the time you were able to answer correctly, but sometimes it was like you had a completely different set of memories…

"I figured out that you seemed to remember everything perfectly up until about three years ago. I knew something was definitely up. I talked to a couple of doctors and one of them suggested that it might have to do with the experimentation that was done on you as a kid. So I looked up your medical file, and it said… you'd been pregnant several times but were never able to carry a child anywhere close to term."

"Yeah, I know. Remember? I told you."

"No." Clint said quietly. "You thought you had told me, but you never actually did. I knew nothing about it until I looked it up. I thought it must be some sort of error- until I talked to you, pretending I knew everything, and you said it had really happened. I spent a lot of time staring blankly at a computer screen until eventually I managed to figure out that the lapses in your memory were all connected to-"

"What do you mean?" she snapped.

"Someone's been experimenting on you these past couple of years." he said quietly. "I don't know who yet, but they want your baby. Eventually, they must have come up with the idea of altering your memories so you'd want the same thing and do their dirty work for them-"

"_You're lying._"

Her hand jumped to the gun again, and she was backing up.

"I know it's… not very nice to think about," he said, reaching out towards her the same way Bruce had tried with Tony. "And I know I'm not explaining this very well. But Tasha... how else would this have happened so many times? SHIELD has never forced you to sleep with a target. They- whoever they are- just made you think that so you wouldn't become suspicious-"

"_No."_ Her hand closed around the doorknob.

"Nat, wait-"

She wrenched open the door and flew out into the hallway, running full tilt towards the elevator, desperate to get somewhere, anywhere away from her partner and his words.

**Please review!**


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